


Rise and Fall and Rise (Again)

by gaydaractivate04



Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Firelord Zuko (Avatar), Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, POV Zuko (Avatar), Protective Zuko (Avatar), Still, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, Zuko kills Ozai, Zuko saves the Fire Nation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaydaractivate04/pseuds/gaydaractivate04
Summary: Zuko's path goes in a different direction than he'd ever expected, one that leads to redemption sooner than he thought.He never does regain his honor from his father, but instead receives something else far more valuable.Loyalty, from his whole nation and beyond, as he fights to protect them, even in exile.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Zuko & The Fire Nation (Avatar), Zuko & Zuko's Crew (Avatar)
Series: The Adventures of Ambassador Sokka [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1793116
Comments: 90
Kudos: 1589





	Rise and Fall and Rise (Again)

**Author's Note:**

> Wow. Okay. I wrote this so fast, after reading all of y'alls comments. 
> 
> This was not the series I expected to blow up, but here I am, two days later, with the next installment to share with you.
> 
> This work is from Zuko's perspective (as said the tags) and goes over both pre-Avatar stuff, how he became Fire Lord, and the meeting with the others (and more).
> 
> Thank you all so much for all y'all's support and encouragement with this. (seriously, thank you, it was amazing to just come back on and see MORE comments, like hOLY FUCK PEOPLE LIKE MY WRITING???)
> 
> I know I said I have another thing to work on and it would be a week or so, but I managed to write another chapter for my wip and write this at the same time so...here you go! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the story!!

They want to use them as bait.

They want to use their _own_ people, teenagers, barely into adulthood, as bait. As a cheap distraction, a way to win a foot more of land in a kingdom that isn’t theirs.

They are his people and he won’t stand for it.

Instead, he stands for them.

The fire behind him flares, waves of heat washing over him as he turns. As his father declares that he was to settle his disrespect in the one way he could. As he declares in turn that he isn’t afraid.

_They are his people._

The arena is loud, deafening as he takes his position on one end of the room, crouched and ready. He stands, fast and sure, ready to defend his words, to prove he meant what he’d said.

He turns and stumbles.

Zuko’s father’s face is contorted in a rage he saw only rarely, the type of anger you can burn the world down with.

Instead, instead of the world, Zuko was burned. He can feel himself screaming as he collapses to the side, but he can’t hear it, hands holding his face like it will stop the pain, heal the wound, like it will stop time and reverse it - 

The room he wakes in is small, sloping wood walls, a single porthole letting in Agni’s rays.

The medic is kinder than those at the palace, gentle with her ministrations, explaining that he is on a ship, that his uncle came with him, that the burn may never heal completely.

That he is exiled, a traitor to the throne, a traitor to his father’s will.

_They were his people._

_______________

The crew doesn’t trust him. He can tell. It’s not very hard.

They won’t stand in small rooms alone with him, either afraid of getting burned by his fire or too repulsed by the scar that mars half his face, by the title he used to bear.

They are, after all, made up of the people the Fire Nation didn’t want. Soldiers who quietly helped children and civilians escape their grasp. Mercenaries, those who Ozai and his generals decided could live, if only to serve another purpose. The servants that had too many thoughts, too many words, as they worked at the palace.

He doesn’t blame them for hating him.

Uncle Iroh is his only ally. He’s there to calm Zuko down, to offer him tea and quiet suggestions. Uncle helps further his education as a firebender - _he never was as good as Azula_ \- and the rare times his patience runs out and he snaps, it’s well deserved.

The crew loves and respects Uncle, of course. They won’t openly disobey Zuko, but they aren’t happy with following his orders either. 

Then the Avatar rises again.

And Zuko falls trying to catch him. 

He chases the Avatar and his group around the world, to a tiny village in the South Pole, to an island of warriors, to towns and villages, scattered throughout the countries. 

As he chases them, he sees those towns and villages, sees the people who live there. He sees, and he learns.

The destruction his father - _and forefathers_ \- wrought across the nations, stretching from large, gleaming capitals - _craters and burns marking the outer walls_ \- to tiny fishing villages - _empty boats bobbing in dark waters_ \- and he is disgusted by it.

The next town they stop in, as low as they can be on food and coal, he is careful with the prices. He considers the cost presented to them by the resentful townspeople and doubles it. Not one person from his crew protests. 

Zuko tells himself it was a one time thing, only because that _pathetic_ Earth Kingdom town looked a single bad harvest from crumbling, forgotten on the maps.

He tells himself that, tries to believe it.

The Avatar’s trail leads them to a small village, barely twenty houses, where it was said he passed through. He asks all the questions - _demands answers less and less_ \- before he really looks around.

He looks, really looks, and sees the children huddled behind their mothers and fathers, sees the gaunt and scared faces that surround them, not a weapon in sight. 

Zuko orders his crew to bring a portion of their food, fresh from the last market they’d managed to stop in, and give them to the villagers. 

Orders, like his crew hadn’t been inclined to do it anyways.

They stay there for nearly two weeks, helping shore up leaning houses and build a wall that surrounds most of the village, giving them a line to defend from. He ensures that his crew stays on the ship, eating only their own food and doesn’t accept the few offerings the people try to give them as payment.

They leave when he can delay no longer and goes to pick up the trail before it goes cold completely. 

His crew has stopped glaring at him, stopped avoiding him and standing as far away as they can, instead sharing a rare smile or two, a nod of mutual respect.

It’s a few months before they have no choice but to take refuge in an outlying Fire Nation town, with the hopes that none will report them, and if they want to, they won’t know who to tell.

The town is just as scarred as the others they’d seen. Great cracks run through its sloping streets, the rubble of collapsed buildings where homes had once stood. These people are wary, unwilling at first to trade with them.

Even as Zuko makes it clear that they are there to trade, not _take._

_That’s what the last of your lot said._ An older woman spits at his feet. _Get out of our town, we won’t help you._

A familiar fire ignites in his chest.

_These are his people._

_______________

He sends firehawks to every battalion he can remember, to every commander who wouldn’t question a sudden change in orders.

He knows his father wouldn’t write the letters himself, but the advisor that does has simple handwriting and an even simpler signature. It was child’s play to imitate official letters, calling for a retreat, calling for withdrawal from the lands they’d inhabited, sending hundreds of thousands of troops home, families grateful to see them, generals less so.

Quite literally child’s play, as imitating the orders sent daily from the capital had been one of his favorite games to play with Azula, when she was in a good mood. After, he’d pay for an hour of painstakingly copying handwriting with an hour of Fire Lord Azula versus the Earth Kingdom Assassin, but it paid off in the end.

Even if the end wasn’t quite how he’d imagined it would be.

Chaos spreads through the Fire Nation, through the palace, and he’s sure that if you listen well enough, you can hear Fire Lord Ozai shouting all the way from the North Pole.

He’d kept his crew in the dark about it all, hadn’t told a word to Uncle, not even as he sent firehawk after firehawk, praying they’d arrive in time to stop the various massacres he knew would inevitably happen.

At least, that way, he wouldn’t lose everyone he loved.

Azula is the one who finds him, a virtual army behind her. 

She boasts about her troops, about the unstoppable force gathered with her, saying they were all hers to command.

Good. That was good.

That meant that she didn’t have anyone stationed at the nearby town, surrounding it, readying to burn it to the ground, the people inside their homes.

The Fire Nation People inside their homes.

Zuko had taken this walk - _such a risky little thing, Azula croons_ \- to move away from them, to buy his crew time and stall his sister. 

His crew, his Uncle, his only friends and allies, they didn’t know _why_ he was ordering them to evacuate the town, loading the civilians onto their ship and heading to the farthest port they could manage to get to with the little supplies they had.

They didn’t know why, yet they did it anyways. 

He’d told Uncle Iroh that he’d meet him there, don’t worry, just keep going and don’t turn back.

He’d lied, of course.

He didn’t fight as Azula took him down. He didn’t protest, didn’t shout about honor and father and _how could she do this to him, he hadn’t done anything wrong_ -

He didn’t lie to her.

When she snarled and sneered in his face after finding an empty village, empty houses and empty roads, he laughed.

He laughed as he told her what he’d done, laughed as he confessed to the horrible crime of saving lives.

Laughed, even as she spread that he was a coward, captured for trespassing in his own home.

_These were his people and he rose for them._

_______________

The walls around him are trembling, bits of rock and dust drifting from the ceiling to the stone floor beneath him, the faint light of flickering torches outside his cell door squeezing through the cracks.

The walls are trembling, but Zuko stays stock still.

And listens.

For far above, what seems miles and worlds and galaxies away, there is a battle, one fearsome enough that it causes the very earth to shake from its might.

He tries to find it somewhere in himself to care, to truly wonder what could be happening in the world, in the palace he grew up in. He can’t.

He’s been far from the sun long enough that he’s cold, his gift from Agni, gift from the Dragons, smothered, his very bones shivering. The water brought once a day does nothing to quell his thirst, the food far and few between. 

The servants who arrived to deliver it always left quickly and quietly, the single guard at the door following after them.

It was a surprise to hear the pounding of footsteps, growing louder as they neared, a door far away slamming open and closed. It was even more of a shock when the door to his cell was inched open, the dim light of the torches feeling like a thousand suns on his eyes.

A guard - _Sumi, one of the kind ones, she’d sneak him an extra bite of food when she could_ \- crouched next to him where he lay, slumped against the far wall, matted hair falling into his eyes.

She was gentle as she picked him up, a servant girl offering to assist before being waved off. A cloth was draped over his eyes as they moved him, carefully climbing stairs, the muted footfalls of far more people than there’d usually be in a guard room barely registering in his ears.

Other hands close around his shoulders as they lay him onto a soft surface, gently propping him against another wall - _wood, this time_ \- before moving to his face, slowly peeling back the cloth as his eyes adjust, as he blinks back tears and forces his eyes to focus on the faces hovering in front of him.

Focuses on the concerned and familiar faces in front of him, the guards and servants and damned jailers that he’d seen every day in the time he’d been here.

A servant slides something onto the cot, the hard material pressing against his leg. His dao, sheathed, handles worn and grip stained, just the same as the last he’d used them.

Sumi explains it quickly, as the torches flicker and walls shake and anxious glances are cast at the ceiling and the door and him and -

Zuko stands in one swift movement, his shaking legs holding underneath him, the dao unsheathed and in his hands as he takes in Agni’s rays, allows them to rejuvenate him before he leads the way out the door, the guards trailing nervously behind as sparks bleed from his hands.

_These are his people and he will protect them._

_______________

Azula - _Azula, baby sister, no no no nononono_ \- was crumpled on the ground of the throne room, her limbs bent in directions they weren’t meant to bend, her head thrown back, eyes wide and mouth gaping -

Ozai stood before her, the tapestries and chairs and windowsills aflame around him, bodies of the servants unlucky enough to be nearby strewn across the floor like ragdolls, burns like craters smoking on walls and people alike.

The doors were aflame as well, stopping those who remained inside from fleeing as his father ranted and howled his rage to the sky, spitting fire as he roared.

Zuko burst inside, adrenaline surging through his veins as he knocked the great doors off their hinges and roared back.

The room was filled with shouts, with screams of triumph and fear, as he surged towards the Fire Lord, the Dragons of old racing at his side as he deflected the streams of flame thrown at him, sending them ricocheting against walls, collapsing into showers of sparks.

The fight was short, vicious, a whirlwind of animal instinct and training melding together.

The swords in his hands were like an extension to his body, his soul, as he sliced and stabbed, faster and sharper than ever before, than ever his tutors and trainers were able to make him fight - 

Because this wasn’t for him. This fight, it wasn’t for him.

It was for his people.

It was for the people who’d suffered at the hands of Fire Nation soldiers as they took over their wons, their cities, their homes. It was for the families torn apart by the drafts and volunteers, as fathers and mothers and sisters and brothers left, an urn of ashes returning in their place.

It was for the people of the Earth Kingdom, who’d had their land stolen from them, displaced, as the colonies were formed and more invaders arrived, assured of their superiority.

It was for the people of the Southern and Northern Water Tribes, their villages bled dry as they desperately sent more and more men to fight, more and more food to feed their forces, more and more children left without parents.

It was for the Air Nomads, who hadn’t had a fighting chance, being the peace loving people they were.

_These were his people and he would save them._

Zuko didn’t hesitate as he sliced his father’s head from his shoulders, slamming a sword, two swords, in his stomach, making sure he stayed down as the fire died from his hands.

_______________

The pair of servants that carry him to his rooms - _guest quarters, for very high ranking nobles, he can tell, he knows where they are_ \- stay silent the whole trip there, a squad of the Royal Guard marching behind them. 

One had been sent to who knows where, the woman practically sprinting as she sped down the hallway, skidding around a corner and disappearing from sight. Another pair had been sent in a different direction; he didn’t bother watching this time.

His vision had gone blurry, his ears ringing; he felt like he was floating, drifting farther and farther from shore, voices muffled around him as he was lowered onto his back, hands gentle and lingering.

He drifted farther.

The voices turned to shouts and marching to thundering footsteps, his chest feeling as if it was filling with lava, the molten rock melting all it could, covering what it couldn’t destroy.

Zuko jolts when a cool liquid is pressed against his forehead, the water freezing, steaming where it met his skin. He tried to sit up then, to push the hands away from him, but it’s only moments later when he is swept away by the tide, eyes slipping shut and muscles going lax.

He wakes to find more people in the room, resting on the edge of the bed, armoured guards lining the walls, servants in simple clothing sitting on the floor.

A doctor leans over him, checking his vitals, when he notices that he’s awake, blinking in the light. It’s Sumi who’s pulled towards him, her voice soft and soothing as she explains.

Explains the fever that had nearly taken him, that it had been hours - _not days? Not years?_ \- since he’d defeated his father and saved them, saved them all. She thanks him with tears in her eyes and he barely has the mind to ask what happens next.

The coronation, that’s what happens next.

With his fever broken, courtesy of a waterbender healer, the Fire Sages have decided that he is to be crowned as soon as possible, which leads to him getting helped to his feet, an arm offered on his right side as they head to the bathroom.

The pair of servants that accompany him and Sumi inside don’t swallow their gasps inside when his shirt is removed, pants following soon after.

He knows what he looks like.

Thinner, thinner than he’d ever been in his life, able to count each rib and see them clearly, pale and dirty from going so long without sunlight.

Then come the scars. Scars from burns, shaped as hands and splatters of flame, a testament to his father’s kindness. Straight, pink scars crisscross over those, clearly made from quick slashes, those that come from the ornamental knives royals so often carry with them.

He doesn’t really care. 

Zuko nearly falls as he slides into the bath, a steadying hand under his arm catching him and lowering him at the last moment.

He allows himself to drift in the bliss as soap and oils were worked against his skin, through his hair. Drifts and relaxes, as his hair is combed out, the grime caking on his face carefully wiped away with a soft cloth.

They dry him off with gentle touches, applying bandages and salves where needed; though most were treated by the doctor before, there were some he hadn’t found.

The ceremonial robes are heavy, thick with layers and embroidery, the designs of dragons gracing his shoulders, their tails intertwining and running down his spine. His hair is swept into a tight top knot, held in place by a simple red band.

He refuses the chair they offer to carry him in with a shake off his head. He made this far without relying on the discomfort of his people, he won’t start now. 

They’re nearly at the doors, nearly at the entrance to the ceremony, when he pauses. He tips his head back, eyes closed as he feels the fading light of Agni on his face, warming him to his core.

A nudge at his shoulder and he can delay no longer. He glances to the faces surrounding him, the hopeful and joyful and grateful faces around him, and steps forward, to the new future.

The ceremony passes in a blur. He says the words he knows to say, repeats after the Sages when they tell him to, accepts the crown kneeling before the crowd, dead silent.

It isn’t until he stands, five pronged crown resting on his head - _so much heavier than he thought it would be_ \- that they cheer. When they do, it echoes off the walls and flies into the open sky, voices chanting one phrase over and over and over again.

Fire Lord Zuko.

_These are his people and he can save them._

_______________

Night after night after night, he spends his time in his office, lanterns dim and curtains closed, as he writes letters to everyone he can think of.

He pulls contacts from those willing to give them, a fire hawk sent to every corner of the world. He’s trying to do what is right.

Zuko sends troops home, permanently withdrawing from territory that isn’t theirs, returning the land they’ve taken. He sends royal messengers, straight from the palace, with bulging purses and letters of apology.

He knows the other leaders - _the Avatar, the heir to the Southern Water Tribe, one of the few waterbenders, the Master of Earth_ \- don’t trust him, don’t believe in the words he writes.

He will prove it to them, just like he’s had to prove everything else.

So he locates the prisoners, _all_ the prisoners of war, whether they were in the dungeons or jails or Boiling Rock, he finds them. And he sends them home, fresh bandages and stitches covering any wounds not already healed.

He extends a worldwide pardon to all those banished and in exile, if their crime was disobeying Ozai or aiding an opposing force. There are still papers and logistics to cover, for all the things he’s changing, but he’ll deal with that later.

He works for three years, making the Fire Nation more peaceful than it had been in centuries, open markets and festivals in every town as they continue to thrive.

And finally - _finally_ \- the others begin to trust him.

They agree on a revival of the treaties, the outdated ones Zuko still enforced, with no other options or set of rules. He wouldn’t see his people hurt or looked down upon, when it was no one's fault but his own.

He invites the Avatar and his companions into his home, gently reminding his concerned guards and personal servants that they are in _his_ capital, and if it comes to it, he can defend himself.

He doesn’t think he’ll need to, from what he’s heard about them. They, at least, will listen to what he has to say, unlike past ambassadors he’d tried to meet with.

A meeting with the council slows him down, the men and women bringing up more and more concerns as the harvest comes closer, as villages in the outer lands continue to struggle.

Zuko doesn’t want to be late, not to these negotiations, but he can’t leave his people to fend for themselves, leave these advisors to decide what they think is right.

As, undoubtedly, quite a few would choose a solution that benefitted them more than it benefitted their people.

He won’t allow that.

So he tries to finish it as fast as he can without missing anything, does his best to hurry the discussions along and shuts down any disagreement quickly; there isn’t time for debate.

He’s still an hour late as he hurries down the hallways, walking at a pace that would be considered improper, should any of the court members see him.

After all, the Fire Lord is never late. You’re just early.

_Bullshit._

Kai is waiting for him outside the door, a pair of guards flanking the entryway as he skids around the corner. He’d been stopped for a few minutes by the Head of the Household Servants, it was a miracle he’d managed to get away from the conversation without offending her.

A guard opens the door without prompting, Kai leading the way in, likely to announce him, something he hasn’t quite managed to convince the servants isn’t necessary, when he freezes, gasping.

Zuko sweeps after him, wondering what could have _possibly_ caused such a reaction -

He stops dead in his tracks.

_Dammmmn._

He quickly forces that useless though into the back of his mind, struggling for a bit of coherency as he stares. The man sitting in his chair, hair pulled back, a sleeveless blue tunic hanging off of him, is staring right back at him.

It’s their eyes meeting that makes him able to wrench his gaze away from where it was traveling, giving the rest of the room a cursory glance - _angry waterbender, shocked air bender, laughing earthbender_ \- before he turns back.

“Why are you sitting in my chair?”

That wasn’t really what he’d meant to say, but it was one of the better alternatives to his current thoughts.

The man gives an adorable squeak and stutters out an apology before springing out of it, practically falling over himself in an effort to move away.

Zuko can’t stop himself in time; in an instant he’s at the man’s side, a hand under his arm, preventing him from bashing his head on the table as he falls.

There was that perfect little fairytale pause, blue eyes meeting gold. Then the guy pulls away, spinning around and plopping into his chair, head down.

He cannot blush here, he cannot blush here, he cannot blush -

The waterbender saves him, offering a stilted apology for her brother, teeth gritted. He waves her off - _she didn’t really mean it anyways_ \- and offers one of his own, giving a bow in their directions, trying to show that he means it.

They look shocked before the Avatar bows back, hands forming the flame awkwardly in return, finally settling into their seats as the meeting begins.

He goes over the basics of his ideas - _new territory lines, checkpoints manned by guards to count how many go in and out, trade routes reopened_ \- and gives the written information to the group, all the while casting glances at the man to his left. 

Zuko watches as he - _Sokka, he knows his name now_ \- doesn’t return the glances, his eyes fixed on the papers before him, and when there are no papers, the table. 

Sokka doesn’t look at him, not for a second, until the very end of the meeting, papers packed away, door creaking open.

Their eyes meet, Zuko’s hands clenched behind his back. He knows he shouldn’t be this nervous, he’s just _looking_ at the guy after all, but he’s swallowing around a lump in his throat and his chest feels tight and -

Sokka winks, blue eyes alight with mischief.

He blushes. 

Then smiles back, albeit hesitantly, before Kai sweeps into the room, showing the delegation out, pace sharp and quick as he draws them from the room.

He can’t get the wink from his mind, even as he walks to his corridors, stationed as they are on the other side of the palace, even as various people bid him goodnight, gazes curious at his grin.

The smile doesn’t fade, lights in his chambers already doused, a servant waiting to help him dress for bed. He dismisses her, instead choosing to stand by his window, watching as Agni’s rays fade, the royal garden beneath him.

_These are his people and he has saved them._

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all!
> 
> Hope you liked the sequel!! (prequel/sequel??)
> 
> Lemme know what you thought in the comments!! (and if you have ideas for where this could go or any tips for something I missed)
> 
> (i have ideas for the next few installments, but vague, tentative ones)
> 
> Stay safe and stay healthy!
> 
> And most importantly: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!! WOO HOOOO!!
> 
> Edit: someone in the comments asked about ages of the characters, so I thought I’d clear it up here really quick.
> 
> Okay so about the ages:
> 
> First Zuko. So he got banished at 13, right? Then I’d say (purely guesswork to fit my fic, hopefully kinda accurate??) he spent 2 years looking for the Avatar. When he’s 15 the Avatar resurfaces (again, to fit the fic, idk) and he spends the next 6 months alternating between looking for him and helping people. At 15.5 he betrays his father completely and is captured. He spends 3 years in the dungeons, meaning he is crowned at 18.5 years old.
> 
> The 3 years after that pass as he fixes everything his family destroyed, meaning by the end of the one shot he is about 21.5 years old.
> 
> By the end of the one shot ages of the Gaang:
> 
> Sokka - 21 to 22  
> Katara - 20 to 21  
> Toph - 18 to 19  
> Aang - 18 to 19


End file.
